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"Ashira L'Hashem Ki Gao Ga'ah".Rashi offers two explanations for this verse from the "Shirat Hayam":

‏1‏. Citing Targum Onkulus, he explains the verse as "I will sing to Hashem because (or since) he is above all."

According to the second interpretation, Moshe chooses to begin the "Shira" by indicating that Bnei Yisrael lacked sufficient praise to offer Hashem. This concept is also found in the Gemara (Megilla 25a) that restricts our praise of Hashem in our Tefilah to "Ha'kel Hagadol Hagibor V'hanora," a limitation based upon the verse, "L'chah Dumiah Tehila" (Megilla 18a). The second interpretation of Rashi defines the word "Ki" as "even though", or "despite the fact that…". Meaning, "I will sing to Hashem EVEN THOUGH He is exalted above all and I can't possibly sing all His praises."

The question begs itself, how indeed did Bnei Yisrael and Moshe have the right to offer the additional praise of "Shirat Hayam?

The Gemara (Megilla 25a, Berachos 33b) says that had the "Anshei Knesset Hagedolah" not incorporated the words "Ha'kel Hagadol Hagibor V'hanora" into our Tefilot, we would not have been able to utter even these words. In fact, the Anshei Kenesset Hagedolah themselves introduced these praises only based on Moshe's having used these expressions in praise of Hashem (Devarim 10:17). Nevertheless, this "mattir" - the source of the permissibility to recite even these short words of praise, requires further clarification.

Rav J.B Solovetchik z"l offered 3 possibilities as to the basis for allowing Shira, each derived from Moshe Rabbenu's Shirat Hayam. First, Moshe had a tradition - dating to the time of Avraham Avinu - that the Jewish Nation would offer prayer and praise to Hashem in times of need and times of joy. The Gemara (Berachot 26b) says that our forefathers established the various Tefilot. The intention of the Gemara is not merely to present us with this historical point, but rather to show us that because they established the Tefilot (Shacharit, Mincha and Maariv), we too are permitted to pray accordingly. As Moshe mentioned in the Shira, "Elokay Avi V'aromimenhu"- just as my forefathers before me offered Shira to Hashem, so will I.

Secondly, "Shira" in indispensable for the fulfillment of the obligation of ""Vhalachta Bdrachav" – to emulate the ways of God. As mentioned in the Gemara (Megilla 25a), only one who is capable of reciting all the praises of Hashem may praise Him ("Mi Y'mallel Gevurot Hashem, Yashmia Kol Tehilato" - Tehillim 106:2). This ,of course, is impossible for mortals. Yet the prophets often revealed the praise of Hashem (e.g. Rachum Vchanun) in order that we learn God's attributes that we are to emulate. The permission to recite Shira derives from the fact that the Shira itself, which describes the Midot of Hashem, provides the blueprint that shows man how to follow and emulate God's divine ways. The Gemara (Shabbos 133b) derives the obligation to emulate God from the verse "Zeh Kayli V'anvayhu," understanding the word "V'anvayhu" as an acronym for "Ani V'hu" (I and He). When we recite Shira to Hashem, we are also reiterating and reinforcing our obligation to emulate the ways of Hashem for which we offer praise. Thus the "Mattir" for Shira is that Shira defines how we can, practically, follow the ways of our Creator in every day life.

Finally, regardless of these reasons, one must be permitted to pray because Man has an instinctive need to give thanks and recognition to someone who performs an act of kindness towards him. As pertains to Hashem, this natural urge translates into praise to Hashem for His ongoing kindness towards man. Despite the impossibility of completing all of God's praises, Moshe and Bnei Yisrael, just minutes after their salvation from near-certain death at the hands of the Egyptians, could not control their need to sing the praise of Hashem for His many miracles and acts of kindness on their behalf. This "uncontrollable need" to thank Hashem is also the basis of permission (Mattir) for our Tefilot in general. One characteristic that distinguishes man from animal is the human being's natural ability and need to pray. Even though man recognizes the inadequacy of his Tefilot (Ki Gaoh Gaah), he instinctively must offer them anyway (Azi Vzimarat Kah).

Realizing that mortal man can never properly express the wonders of God, we say "Shira" based on a historic precedent (the patriarchs). But even if this is not enough; we must say Shira in order to be able to emulate God. But even if this could be achieved by some other means, Man can never withstand the natural drive invested in him from birth to stand before God and thank Him.

Just as Moshe felt this overpowering sense of gratitude at the banks of the Yam Suf, so may his children always feel the basic, ingrained need to thank our Creator for His ongoing kindness towards all creatures in His world.

[Prepared by Yehoshua Grunstein.]

THE WAY OF THE WARRIOR

Our parashah ends with the unprovoked attack of Amaleik, followed by God's vow (17:14), "'I will certainly eradicate the mention of Amaleik from beneath the heavens.'" In the final paragraph of Parashat Ki Teitsei, which we will read less than two months from now on Shabbat Zachor, Moshe elucidates that this command devolves to B'nei Yisrael. We might ask: what is so bad about the act of Amaleik that it requires utter destruction? We do see this principle by the seven nations of K'naan, but there the point is simply to remove the idolaters from the land, for the practical reason that they might influence us with their abominations, such as incest and child sacrifice (see VaYikra 18); were the nations of K'naan to leave the land of their own accord, as the Sages maintain that the Girgashi did, we would have no quarrel with them. However, we are obligated to pursue Amaleik to the ends of the earth, as "'the Hand is on the seat of Lord, a war for Lord with Amaleik from generation to generation,'" even extending to their children and animals. This is especially striking when we compare Amaleik with his cousins, the other tribes descended from our uncle Eisav, regarding whom the Torah commands, "Do not repulse an Edomi, for he is your brother" (D'varim 23:8). Why, of all the nations that attack Yisrael, does Amaleik alone warrant this severe and disturbing response?

Apparently, Amaleik's unique status results from the principle of "the crooked cannot be set straight" (Kohelet 1:15). Fear of God is a concept that Amaleik inherits from his grandfather Eisav—not the ethical system of the Torah per se, but a moral code, the code of the hunter/warrior. This code encourages the strong to attack the strong, in order that each may test himself—but it also obligates the strong to guard (or at least not to attack) the weak. Thus, Eisav hunts for his food, and he is opposed to Yaakov the shepherd, as domesticating animals to eat them, to the older twin's eyes, is dishonorable. On the other hand, he must protect Yitzchak his father, the farmer, as not everyone can be a warrior, and even the hunter needs bread. It is the fact that Eisav has a sense of morality that allows Yitzchak to believe that his firstborn is the son to carry on Avraham's work.

Amaleik corrupts this, as D'varim 25:18 describes: "he attacked the rear, all who were straggling after you, and you were tired and weary," demonstrating that he "was not God-fearing." The nation of Amaleik is not simply immoral, it is amoral. The "fear of God" that they do not accept does not mean that the Torah's 613 commandments, as even Yisrael had not received this yet, but rather the basic morality that is required of all humanity. The only positive commandment that Noachides hais "dinin," to set up courts of justice. Amaleik has a sense of justice, but it is the law of the jungle: attack the weak, because they offer the least resistance. This reminds us of the perverted justice of S'dom, a concept of private property which condemns Lot for the crime of hospitality.

We see this also in Amaleik's other great attack, that of Haman. The decree he sponsors is "to destroy, to kill, and to exterminate all of the Jews, from youth to elder, children and women" (Ester 3:13). Ester's decree does not countermand the original (as, by Persian law, it could not), but instead states, "that the King has given leave for the Jews in each and every city to congregate and to stand for their lives, to destroy, to kill, and to exterminate all of the soldiers of every nation and country which would attack them…" (ibid. 8:11). In other words, Haman's intent was that the Jews would be taken when they were weak and defenseless, as it would be illegal for them to congregate or to acquire the means to fight. The second decree allows the Jews to defend their lives, to employ "the hands of Eisav" at their time of need—as morality demands.

We can now understand the unique punishment that Amaleik receives, for it is not truly a punishment—certainly their women and children and animals are innocent of any wrongdoing! The Torah was given to B'nei Yisrael, but this does not exempt the other nations from being God-fearing, i.e., moral. On the contrary, we are supposed to be a moral paradigm for all humanity. When the raison d'etre of a nation is a perversion of justice—whether it be S'dom's prohibition of charity or Amaleik's abuse of the weak—they are not merely sinners; they are a desecration of God's name, their existence is counterproductive, and the only remedy is to eradicate totally their memory. As Rashi cites from Tanchuma, "The Holy One, Blessed be He, swears that His Name will not be complete and His Throne will not be complete until Amaleik has been utterly eradicated."

[Prepared by Yoseif Bloch.]

“Va’y’hee b’shalach Par’o es ha’am “And it came to pass when Par’o had let the people,

v’lo nuchum Elokim that God led them not through the way

derech Eretz Pelishtim of the land of the Pelishtim,

key karov hoo” although that that was near . . .”

The Chafetz Chaim points that when the Jewish nation left Egypt, there were two possible routes to follow: “the way of the land of the Pelishtim” and the way of the desert. Each had its advantages and disadvantages. On the one hand, the road through the land of the Pelishtim was through inhabited areas; the Jews would easily be able to find food and drink. But on the other hand, contact with the surrounding native population might adversely affect the Jewish people who had so recently began the difficult journey from the 49^th level of spiritual impurity. For a nation used to the passive mind-set of slavery and the moral depravity of Egypt, even the smallest contact could return them to their previous spiritual lows.

The path through the desert, in contrast, offered little contact with anyone else. The Jews would be able to complete their spiritual journey towards the receiving of the Torah on Mount Sinai without spiritual hazard. On the other hand, a desert does not provide the necessary provisions for a traveling nation.

To Hashem, the choice was clear. Physical obstacles could be overcome by miracles such as the Miriam’s well and the Manna from heaven. But if the Jews returned to the depths of spiritual impurity that until recently they has inhabited, there would be nothing Hashem could do. The desert was the road taken.

The Chafetz Chaim points out that the lesson learned from here applies just as much to us today as it did to the Jews back then. Occasionally, people will accept a position that in some way compromises their religious principles, whether the job overtly requires direct transgression (such as work on Shabbat) or merely requires one to move to a city without proper schools and minyanim. They justify these actions by saying that they need the money to provide for themselves and their family: the so-called “heter par’nasa.” They forget that Hashem directed the Jews to travel via the desert, away from the easy means of support and away from the spiritual distractions. If God could provide sufficient food for an entire nation – a nation of 600,000 men not including women or children – then He certainly can provide the necessary means for one family without the need for compromise.

– Yalkut Lekach Tov

[Prepared by Yoni Kristt.]

The Orthodox world has historically been shaped by two opposing, but not necessarily opposite tendencies. On one hand, Judaism desires to preserve and protect its sacred laws and institutions from any potentially hazardous or undermining aspect of a changing world. This essentially reactionary worldview tends to avoid those aspects of general culture that may have implications or underpinnings that threaten the foundations of Jewish faith. Standing alone, this perspective presents a rigidly defined and fundamentally unchanging Judaism.

On the other hand, Jewish history accepts the notion of adaptability to new environs. Judaism should remain relevant within each culture it encounters, and any member of any community should be able to meaningfully and properly observe the Torah. It should be able to successfully, if not fruitfully, confront, if not absorb from, any culture it encounters. This tendency, although legitimate and easily discernible throughout Jewish history, has inherent dangers. Unmitigated it will lead and has led to major deviations from normative Halacha.

These tendencies form a fundamental dialectic relationship which underlies the development of Jewish intellectual history. The Torah recognizes both of them and even seems to recognize the complex nature of their relationship. A verse in this week's Parsha (Exodus 15:2) states:

The first colon of the verse reflects a very personal and subjective relationship with “My God”. The Talmud takes this phrase as the source for a personal element or ingredient in the performance of Mitzvot.[1] One midrashic interpretation explains that the etymology of the word “v’anveihu” is “ani v’hu”- I and He, further highlighting the notion of a personal relationship with the Almighty.[2] The second colon relates to an objective, standardized, and inherited mode of worship. It leaves little room for generation and novelty. In this type of relationship, God remains distant, upon a pedestal, and can only be approached through the set of rituals ordained by the tradition of our fathers.

The juxtaposition of these phrases, especially as contrasting parallelisms of a poetic verse, suggests that they conflict with each other and that the tension thus created lies at the center of man’s relationship with his God and becomes a necessary component thereof.[3]

This tension can be generalized to the relationship that specific generations or communities have with their Creator. The uniqueness of each era is determined, on one hand, by the corpus of text and tradition received from previous generations, the mesorah, and, on the other, by the particular character of that generation. The linear transmission of the mesorah through time and the specific cultural situation of each community form the warp and woof of Jewish intellectual history. Their reality is assumed; the dynamics of their relationship, however, present a very complex problem that touches the core of modern religious existence.

Literally and chronologically, the subjective element identified in the verse precedes the transmitted element. Transmission, by definition, is an application to a pre-existing and original situation. As a child must acquire the proper tools and mental sets before he can begin to learn and comprehend, so, too, must a community. Even the community which received the Torah (and sang the above-quoted verse) was not bereft of cultural assumptions which may have determined the content of the Toitself[4] and certainly our comprehension of it.

[Prepared by Elli Fischer.]

1] BT Sukkah 16; Yalkut Shimoni Exodus §245

2] See Rashi BT Shabbos 133b s.v. “Havi Domeh Lo”

3] See Ramban, Ha’amek Davar ad. loc., R’ Yitzchak Hutner Pachad Yitzchak on Pesach, essay #12. R’ Yosef Dov Soloveitchik “Pleitat Sofreihem” in Divrei Hagut V’ha’aracha. They all identify the latent tension within the verse.

4] See for example Rambam Guide to the Perplexed 3:46. More recently, the fields of Comparative Religion and Ancient Near Eastern Studies have explored the impact of preceding religions and legal codes upon the Torah. See, however, Ramban on Levitucus 1:9.

The opening verse of the parsha says:

Hashem was trying to prevent a collapse of morale by the people upon confronting the great military forces of the land of Cana'an. What requires explanation is why Hashem couldn't deal with this problem in another way - perform a miracle and wipe out the opposing armies. After all, the land of Cana'an was the destination to which He wanted them to go. Why not take the most direct route and deal with the problems as only Hashem can, the same way He did with the Egyptians?

When Am Yisrael ultimately enter the land of Cana'an we see a certain pattern emerging in the battles that they fought there. Initially the battles were won as a result of clear Divine intervention - nisim niglim. However, gradually human action (obviously, with hidden Divine assistance) became the more predominant means to victory. Hashem was leading Am Yisrael to take greater initiative, both in war, and in the process of living in the land. Hence, for example, the manna stopped falling after Am Yisrael entered the land.

Here, too, had Am Yisrael entered the land immediately they would ultimately have had to fend for themselves. They were not yet in a state where they were willing or able to take the initiative, and would have collapsed under the strain. The journey to the land of Cana'an was a long one, not only in terms of the time taken, but also in terms of the process of development which the people would have to undergo before being suitable to enter the land.

[Prepared by Danny Eisenberg, based on a shiur by Yonatan Grossman.]

Towards the beginning of Parashat Beshalach, we learn that Moshe took the remains of Yosef as Benei Yisrael left Egypt. The Midrash laudss Moshe for his dedicated involvement in this mitzvah while the rest of the people were preoccupied with their amassment of riches from the spoils of Egypt. Clearly, this Midrash presents us with a crucial lesson regarding priorities and which activities should earn a more prominent place within our daily routine.

But Rav Avraham of Sochochov throws a brilliant spin on this Midrash that adds new depth and meaning to the message conveyed. The collection of the Egyptian spoils itself constituted a mitzvah. Recall that God had commanded Moshe to urge Benei Yisrael to take with them the possessions of their Egyptian neighbors, an imperative which Chazal explain as related to God's promise to Avraham, "... and then they will leave with great riches." Why, then, does the Midrash seem to commend Moshe for involving himself with Yosef's remains rather than another mitzvah, the accumulation of the Egyptians' belongings?

The Sochochover explains that specifically herein lies the message of the Midrash. Moshe had to decide between two mitzvot - the amassment of booty or arranging for the transport of Yosef's body. He specifically chose the mitzvah that did not involve any personal, material gain. This reflected Moshe Rabeinu's profound understanding of what a mitzvah really is - an act performed genuinely for its sake. He did not look around for religious acts that would benefit him personally. He saw mitzvot as what they truly are - sincere acts of devotion to the Almighty.

This Midrash, then, calls upon us to reexamine the nature of our own performance of mitzvot. Can we really claim to perform them for their own sake, or do we pick and choose those religious activities that we find beneficial to our own egoistic concerns? Do we observe the Torah solely to obey the command of God, or for other, less altruistic interests?

Benei Yisrael cannot be criticized for their enthusiastic involvement in the collection of Egyptian spoils. But Moshe rightfully earns the respect and admiration of the Midrash for his honest and sincere attitude towards mitzvot.

[Prepared by David Silverberg.]

To Praise or Not to Praise – That is the Question

While the children of Israel were crossing the Red Sea, Hashem was amidst the destroying of the Egyptian nation. At this fine hour, when after 210 years of servitude, the Jewish people were finally going to be freed, and the promise to our forefathers was going to be fulfilled, how appropriate it was to thank Hashem for all that he had done.

The angels requested to sing prayers of thanks to Hashem. Hashem tells them, "My creatures are drowning and you want to sing praise?" Hashem was telling the angels that even though Egypt was evil and they afflicted the Jewish people, the Egyptians were still created in the image of G-d, and when the image of G-d is being destroyed, its not the time to sing and be happy.

If the above is correct, how come we find the Moshe together with the Jewish nation sing praise to Hashem after they come out of the Red Sea and the Egyptian nation was trapped inside? We today also read the same praise for saving the people from the Egyptians. If the Egyptians were being destroyed, how can we allow ourselves to sing praise? Hashem told the angels not to sing praise when the Egyptians were drowning!

To add to our question, we find that the Beit Yosef brings the Midrash which explains that the reason why we don't say full Hallel for most of Pesach is because we should not sing praise to G-d while his creatures are drowning! If this was true, we shouldn't even say half-Hallel – for this is praise too.

Rav Baruch Halevi Epstein (known for his work, "Torah Temima") explains that the reason why Hashem told the angels not to sing praise, whereas with Moshe, Hashem allowed him to sing praise. It is because the angels wanted to sing praise while the Egyptians were actually drowning, that's why Hashem told them to stop. While Moshe sung praise only after they were dead already and therefore Hashem didn't tell him to stop, because there was nothing wrong with what he did. This answers why we can sing "Az Yashir" on the seventh day of Pesach and how we can praise Hashem during the days of Pesach. If so, why don't we say the full Hallel? To this, he answers, that its got nothing to do with the fact that the Egyptians were dying. The reason why we don't say the full Hallel is because those days don't have their own special sacrifice and on a day that does not have it's own special sacrifice, we don't say the full Hallel. Let's all learn this lesson. When we see our opposition falling, while falling we should remain silent, and if we want to show signs of happiness, they should come only after he has fallen already.

We should all merit to praise Hashem for the final redemption speedily in our days.

[Prepared by Ron Sher.]

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